STORMED

(God’s Sonnet by Timothy J. Verret; it’s how I cope to hope for the washing of me with His Bleed, as I am “stormed”)

If you’re all that and a bag of chips, WRONG!

If you’re hanging black down in brown caves, WRONG!

The hills are not alive, so there’s no song.

There’s just you ALONE all the day, “so long.”

I got a place you can stay if allowed?

I’ll wait for you, “4you,” against the grain.

If you don’t show up, no blue sky or cloud,

just me….who….am….I….who….are…. you? UNCHAIN!

“So if The Son sets you free, free indeed.”

John 8: Thirty-Six – We ain’t chained no more!

But if we got no “real,” we got no bleed.

His Bleed, they say, is enough Account for.

So, it’s not that we’re WRONG! We’re “missin'”4ormed.

But God in4orms and 4orms us when were stormed.

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